


To Thine Own Self Be True

by AKMars



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Times, M/M, New Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKMars/pseuds/AKMars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt Fill for LJ's POI Fanfic Community Summer Gift Exchange.  See notes for prompt info.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Thine Own Self Be True

Title: To Thine Ownself Be True  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Finch/Reese  
Summer Gift Exchange fill for LJ POI Fanfic Community

Assigned Prompt: I really would like a Rinch fic... After Finch confesses he was indirectly responsible for what happened to Reese in Ordos etc John is still there with Finch, Finch can admit his feelings... beginning of a new relationship.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

**‘God Mode’, S2**

_"I always worried that events I had set in motion may have changed things for you."_

_"My life changed when I kept my mouth shut at an airport terminal seven years ago.....you didn't have anything to do with that. You lost a friend, you did what you had to do."_

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

_Finch picked up the telephone receiver and held it to his ear, uncertain as to what the outcome would be._

_**"can....you...hear....me"** _

_"Yes."_

_**"admin....standby...."** _

_The recluse swallowed as the line went dead and returned the handset to its hook. He looked up at his companion. Reese had stayed at the top of the steps, scanning the surrounding area for possible threats; one hand underneath his coat, the SIG ready if needed._

_"Well?"_

_"For now, nothing. When it does contact us again I don't know what it will want us to do."_

_John's expression stayed neutral, hiding his amusement at Finch's tone of aggrieved outrage. Harold looked bereft now that his authority had been usurped. Being told to wait by his own creation rankled the genius, although he would rather lose a limb than admit to it._

_Reese moved down to stand beside the man who had become so much more than his employer._

_"Come back to the loft. We need the rest and the Machine can find us anywhere when it wants us."_

_Finch looked relieved and uncertain at once. "I don't want to impose...."_

_John smiled, placing a hand on Finch's back. "You're not. Let's go."_

_Harold let his op guide him out of the park to where Finch's driver waited. The limo dropped them a block up from Reese's building and they took the back elevator up to John's apartment._

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

Harold enjoyed visiting John's home. Things had changed even more since the last time he was here. Harold smiled, recalling his frantic dash to drop off Bear before the op and his 'date' arrived. More furniture had been added; the kitchen upgraded and sporting a fine compliment of cookware. Throw rugs and two reading chairs joined the neat dining set occupying the main space. The whole area looked warm thanks to the indirect lighting fixtures Reese had brought in.

The only thing that remained constant was the king-sized oaken bedstead, still placed against the left hand wall. It caught Finch's eye as he entered, the dove gray sheets neatly folded over the high-end memory foam mattress Harold had provided his employee. More pillows had been added however, as well as a down comforter; all in a darker shade of gray. It looked comfortable and inviting.

Finch pulled his eyes from the bed, deliberately banishing the inappropriate thoughts that chased through his mind as he hung up his coat.

Freed from his leash, Bear took the opportunity to indulge in a full-body shake; ID tags jingling. Relaxed, the malinois trotted to the over-stuffed mat by the sofa, flopping down on the cushion with a grunt and closing his eyes. Reese's quiet chuckle caught Finch's attention; the op smiling at Harold's upraised eyebrow.

"He's doing just what we should right now."

Finch hmphed in reply, amusement coloring his tone.

"You hungry?"

"Somewhat, shall I order for us?"

"No. Sit down and I'll make us something."

"Mr. Reese, you don't-"

"Maybe I _want_ to Harold."

Finch nodded, giving in and eased himself down onto the couch. The sleek, modern piece of furniture was surprisingly comfortable; its cushions cradling the recluse's body with just the right amount of give versus support. The sofa was at the perfect height for Finch to sit down and stand up with ease, though a bit low for Reese's taller frame. _It's as if it were made for me._ Harold looked again at the room, noting that one seat at the dining table was upholstered; one reading chair was of the upright, wingback variety.

Reese had furnished his home with an eye towards Finch's comfort as well. A clear indication that John _wanted_ Harold to be here and expected the recluse to visit often.... Finch swallowed, the implications of such actions bringing his own growing feelings to the surface. He watched the op puttering around his kitchen; Reese's graceful movements almost ballet-like to Harold's eyes, and thought back on how things had changed between them. 

The tentative steps towards friendship both men had taken in the first year of their partnership only deepened as time passed. Finch knew on his part that he had ceased to look at John Reese as merely his employee after the man had been shot by Snow's agent on the parking garage roof. That night Harold had pushed himself so hard that he could barely move once the adrenaline had faded from his system. 

Reese had been unconscious the first twelve hours after his impromptu surgery in the morgue....had not been witness to Finch curled into the fetal position on the couch by John's bed, helpless as muscle spasms wracked his over-taxed body. Never saw the tears that fell unchecked as Harold gasped in both reaction to his pain and relief that his friend would live. Was unaware that other than to empty his bladder, Finch didn’t leave John’s side for almost a full day.

John’s growing devotion to him had been evident even before that point; culminating with their standoff on the roof of the secured facility and Reese’s revelations as to how Finch had saved his life by offering John a job. Although Harold had been pre-occupied at the time with the problem of how _not_ to end up being blown to bits with his partner; John's admission had shaken him to his core. _Mostly because it made me face the truth at last...._ which in turn meant the recluse had to also admit his own feelings.

It had taken every ounce of Finch’s willpower not to throw his arms around John, bomb-vest notwithstanding, hold on and never let go. The look in Reese’s eyes suggested that if Harold had done so John would have reciprocated and given the emotional state of them both, things would have become awkward very quickly. Finch would never take advantage of such an unstable situation. While it may very well have ended with them sharing a bed, once the reaction had run its course the results could have destroyed their partnership. 

As Finch watched his partner now, having admitted his fear that his actions had adversely affected Reese’s life and in the face of John’s own acceptance of the fact that he alone was responsible for the choices he’d made; Harold felt the time had come at last to openly speak of his feelings. He loved John, he knew that with certainty. Accepting that in himself and actually summoning the courage to act upon the realization were different matters, however.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

　

Dinner was quiet, each man lost within their own thoughts as they contemplated all that had occurred in a scant few weeks. Afterwards Finch found himself, tumbler of amber colored liquid in hand, staring out the bank of windows taking up one wall of the loft. John had refused to allow him to help with the dishes and Harold sipped his drink, more to have something to do than anything else.

The smoky, caramel nuances of the quality liquor penetrated his distraction and he looked at the glass in his hand with new respect. Reese had even researched his preference in bourbons; Finch would have known a ten year-old Bulleit anywhere on first taste. He was conscious of John’s presence behind him and held up the tumbler, nodding to it.

“It hasn’t escaped my attention that you seem to have made an effort to cater to me, Mr. Reese. I confess myself at a loss as to why you would go to so much trouble, however.”

“You’re casting aspersions of my hospitality Harold, I’m hurt.” The gentle teasing in John’s voice was obvious.

“It’s just....why for _me_ I mean?”

"I enjoy your company.” John frowned at his friend’s back. “Who else _would_ I bring here, Finch? Fusco? Carter?"

"Perhaps...if you wanted to see the detective socially,"

Reese gave a snort of negation. "Joss is a good person and her value as an asset has been proven time and again, but..." The op shrugged.

"Sure she's empathetic to our work, enough so that she's bent her own rules when she can to help; but she can never be a _real_ friend Finch....to either of us." He shook his head, forestalling the recluse's attempt to comment.

"That's **not** a dig at Carter. To be close to someone means you allow them closeness _yourself_ in return." He risked a glance at Finch‘s reflection in the glass. 

"Neither of us can do that....not with Joss, not with anyone."

John stepped up, moving close enough so that his shoulder brushed Finch's. He stared out the window, eyes roaming over the park below them and its myriad of visitors, but his attention firmly fixed on the man at his side.

"There's only one person who knows exactly everything about me...all the things I've done and what I've been."

He paused, searching for the right words, wanting to make Finch understand.

"One _man_ who, in spite of all that darkness, still looks past it to see me."

The recluse's eyes widened and he lurched awkwardly, turning to face the op.

"Mr. Reese?"

"You're the only person alive who knows all this, who knows me. My only real friend, Harold." John caught the other man’s gaze, his eyes dark with emotion. 

“With you I can truly be myself and know that you accept me for everything that I am and have been.”

Finch stared at him, lips twitching as he struggled to process Reese’s words. All at once his mind stilled, one thought taking precedence over Harold’s fears. 

_He’s just put himself in check to you....do you take him or cast him aside?_

Finch surged forward, arms reaching out to pull the taller man to him; squeezing him hard enough to make Reese grunt in surprise.

_“John.....”_

Harold felt John’s arms encircle him in return, felt the op’s forehead rest against his and breaking his self-imposed restraint turned his head up, capturing Reese’s lips with his own. John returned his kiss without hesitation, opening his mouth willingly when Harold’s tongue sought entrance; allowing Finch to take the dominant role.

When Harold at last pulled back, leaving the both of them gasping for breath, his eyes searched his partner’s for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, Finch exhaled as he pulled Reese down to him once more.

“I love you John.”

“I love you too, Harold.”

The recluse swallowed, his thoughts threatening to overwhelm him again as his mind extrapolated all the possible outcomes to their current state. At once, his mental processes slammed to a halt as John initiated a kiss. All Harold could concentrate on was the feel of his friend’s mouth on his; the warmth of Reese’s body and the commingled scents of aftershave and gun oil....John’s signature fragrance. _This is what is right....true. I should never have doubted it._

Finch took a half-step back to ease the pressure on his bad leg and nearly lost his footing. 

“Harold?”

“My...my drink.” Both men looked down to see the heavy tumbler lying on its side where it had fallen from Finch’s grasp. The glass was intact but the spilled bourbon and melting ice had caused Harold’s slip.

John laughed, hugging Finch tighter for a moment. “I’ll clean it up.”

“It’s my fault, I can-”

“Make it up to me by fixing breakfast?” John’s gaze was speculative and hopeful all at once.

Finch blushed, feeling his own arousal grow as John eyed him with mutual interest.

“Well, I do know you like Eggs Benedict.” He smiled as Reese laughed again. _I should never have doubted it at all......_

　

**_-FIN-_ **


End file.
